Chapter 30

  And now, laughed at me, Have the younger in days than I, Whose fathers I have loathed to set With the dogs of my flock.  

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  Also -- the power of their hands, why [is it] to me? On them hath old age perished.  

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  With want and with famine gloomy, Those fleeing to a dry place, Formerly a desolation and waste,  

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  Those cropping mallows near a shrub, And broom-roots [is] their food.  

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  From the midst they are cast out, (They shout against them as a thief),  

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  In a frightful place of valleys to dwell, Holes of earth and clefts.  

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  Among shrubs they do groan, Under nettles they are gathered together.  

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  Sons of folly -- even sons without name, They have been smitten from the land.  

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  And now, their song I have been, And I am to them for a byword.  

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  They have abominated me, They have kept far from me, And from before me have not spared to spit.  

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  Because His cord He loosed and afflicteth me, And the bridle from before me, They have cast away.  

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  On the right hand doth a brood arise, My feet they have cast away, And they raise up against me, Their paths of calamity.  

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  They have broken down my path, By my calamity they profit, 'He hath no helper.'  

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  As a wide breach they come, Under the desolation have rolled themselves.  

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  He hath turned against me terrors, It pursueth as the wind mine abundance, And as a thick cloud, Hath my safety passed away.  

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  And now, in me my soul poureth itself out, Seize me do days of affliction.  

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  At night my bone hath been pierced in me, And mine eyelids do not lie down.  

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  By the abundance of power, Is my clothing changed, As the mouth of my coat it doth gird me.  

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  Casting me into mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.  

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  I cry unto Thee, And Thou dost not answer me, I have stood, and Thou dost consider me.  

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  Thou art turned to be fierce to me, With the strength of Thy hand, Thou oppresest me.  

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  Thou dost lift me up, On the wind Thou dost cause me to ride, And Thou meltest -- Thou levellest me.  

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  For I have known To death Thou dost bring me back, And [to] the house appointed for all living.  

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  Surely not against the heap Doth He send forth the hand, Though in its ruin they have safety.  

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  Did not I weep for him whose day is hard? Grieved hath my soul for the needy.  

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  When good I expected, then cometh evil, And I wait for light, and darkness cometh.  

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  My bowels have boiled, and have not ceased, Gone before me have days of affliction.  

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  Mourning I have gone without the sun, I have risen, in an assembly I cry.  

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  A brother I have been to dragons, And a companion to daughters of the ostrich.  

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  My skin hath been black upon me, And my bone hath burned from heat,  

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  And my harp doth become mourning, And my organ the sound of weeping.  

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